Snow Angel
by LithiumKiss
Summary: Latvia's smile let Russia know that he didn't think he was the worst nation in the world. Russia/Latvia, Ivan/Raivis


**AN: For Rachael. She hasn't watched or read Hetalia, but she inspired me (unknowingly), so this is for her.  
**

**I've always wanted to make a snow angel ;A; but I live in the "outback" and there's no snow. I missed my chance in year 7 'cause I injured my hand. Anyway, I wanted to make Russia more...subdued, and not as abusive as some people write him. I just felt like doing something light, but not too light.. it has some elements of angst, just not as much as I usually write. I've reread this a few times, but if there are any spelling or grammatical errors, I'm very sorry. Anyway, read on and enjoy (hopefully).**

**This is not intended to represent any historical event. It is purely fan-based.**

**...  
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* * *

A warm and particularly foreign swell of pride filled Russia's heart, causing the bitter cold that surrounded him wherever he went to crack when he looked down into the pure white snow. Before his feet was the most perfect shape; it was a snow angel, and he'd made it. He, Ivan Braginsky, had made a work of art. Someone as uncreative, bitter and twisted as he had created something that was so simply beautiful; it was actually worth looking at.

Russia had to show somebody.

Unpleasant disappointment overcame him, however, when he realised that Lithuania was in England at a meeting. Since when had Russia given him permission to do so?

With a heavy sigh, he made his way back towards the house. Perhaps somebody would stumble across it and look at it and get something out of it. Perhaps _nobody _would see it, and a storm would blow across and the angelic shape would be covered up forever. Somehow, Russia was unable to convince himself that perhaps he could make another one. No, that snow angel was a one-off, made unintentionally.

Ivan Braginsky, the spontaneous artist extraordinaire.

As he trudged back up to the house, his mind clicked, and he remembered Latvia was there. Yes, little Latvia would be able to see his creation. He would like his creation. In his anticipation, Russia ran the rest of the way home.

"Raivis!"

…

Latvia hummed to himself as he took encyclopaedias one by one off the shelves, preparing to place them in correct order. Estonia was always left attending to the books; no one appreciated that he was making everyone's lives easier by placing every atlas, dictionary and encyclopaedia alphabetically or in correct order of volume.

But Latvia did.

An unfamiliar yet pleasant sense of peace settled itself around him. Russia had stepped out earlier that morning, leaving Latvia inside to attend to his chores and relax. His shaking had even subsided.

Russia had never been abusive towards him, so his shaking and jumpiness was rather irrational, however he did know how the larger nation treated those who disobeyed him and broke their promises. Latvia couldn't help but feel some pity. Perhaps he was just lonely and insecure, and wanted to be accepted and treated with the same respect as every other nation in the world.

Though Latvia did notice the changes once the ideal communist rule and ideals began to disintegrate.

"Latvia!"

The smaller nation almost dropped the large leather bound book he was holding and fumbled with it. It wasn't the shout or how loud it was that caused his surprise; it was the way in which his name was expressed. The exclamation was not angry, and there was no sense of foreboding looming in his chest after he'd heard it. Russia sounded almost…

Excited. _Happy_.

Latvia put the book away and straightened himself up when he heard the front door open and the quick, heavy footsteps coming down the hall.

"I-Ivan, what is it?" the small blond asked, turning to face Russia when he opened the door to the library.

One of those smiles crossed Russia's face, making those purple eyes seem deeper, and as if there was an insanity lurking beneath the depths. Oh…that's right, there was…Russia just very good at hiding it.

"Come with me," the larger of the two held out his hand, yet the soft voice he used caused Latvia to back against the shelves. He wasn't in any way used to that kind of behaviour from Russia.

"What for?"

"Just come!" Russia came forward and grabbed Latvia by the wrist, pulling him along behind him. The smaller nation tripped slightly but regained his balance, discomfort settling in his chest. The rough way in which Russia was handling him caused the discomfort to evolve into a sickening fear.

Perhaps Russia had snapped. Perhaps he was taking Latvia somewhere where he could have his way with him and abuse him. Perhaps he had finally decided it was Latvia's turn.

"I-Ivan, stop. Please, I don't want to—"

"Come, come, little Raivis, don't struggle."

That made Latvia resist further, however, Russia was stronger and more brutish than he, so despite all of his struggling, there was no escaping. Finally, Russia pulled him outside and onto the snow and Latvia decided to close his eyes. Whatever the other nation had planned, if he closed his eyes, he could just pretend…

His body was still. The grip around his wrist tightened. His body tensed.

"Look."

Latvia opened his eyes. All he saw were snow covered trees, almost black against the white snow, trailing off into the grey distance.

"I d-don't…"

"Look _down_."

There was a shape in the snow at his feet. At first he had to look hard to see anything, though there was an obvious indentation in the snow. It was…

A snow angel.

Latvia put his hands on his head and gripped his hair. His heart was beating a million times per second, and fear still had its cold and unforgiving fingers wrapped around him.

"What's the matter, Raivis? You do see it, yes?"

Latvia could only manage to swallow. His resolve broke and to his horror, he began to cry. He cried for his own irrationality, his own ridiculous suspicions and strangely, for Russia. He had made the snow angel…Latvia had seen many children in his own country making them in the snow, with large smiles on their faces, laughing at themselves and with others when they didn't turn out.

But all Latvia could think was, Russia made something as innocent as this?

"You don't like it, do you?"

The low voice sounded as though it was riddled with shards of ice-cold glass. Latvia shook his head to say that, no, he did like it, and he just had no idea what to say or to do or to think. Of course, Russia took that as, no, he didn't like it.

Latvia continued to cry.

Russia kicked at the snow, a mass of fine white pieces scattering over the shape. A large groove damaged the angel's wing. It was no longer recognisable as a wing. Russia continued to destroy it until there was nothing but angry footprints embedded into the snow. He turned back without a word.

…

The reason for Latvia's tears was beyond Russia's reach, though he was able to speculate.

Latvia despised him, just like Estonia, Poland and Ukraine. Just like everybody else.

No matter how hard he tried, nobody every appreciated him as a nation or as anything else.

The two avoided one another for the remainder of the day, even though Russia could have demanded anything from the smaller nation. He had that power, yet he chose not to wield it.

Did little Latvia's opinion matter to him that much?

Russia drank down a bottle of vodka before bed. He stumbled up the stairs and slipped underneath the blankets. Vodka was supposed to be his escape, but at that time, it was keeping him trapped in that room with his feelings.

The worst thing hadn't been that Latvia had resisted, or even that he'd cried. The worst thing, the thing that hurt him the most, was that Latvia hadn't trusted him.

Russia was used to it, but what cause did Latvia have not to trust him? He'd been hospitable, he'd been kind at times, and he had never once touched Latvia, violently or otherwise.

Eventually, Russia fell into a fitful sleep, but was immediately awake once the door to his bedroom opened.

"Ivan, are you awake?"

The one voice that he wanted and didn't want to hear at the same time. He heard small footsteps on the carpet and his blankets rustle as they were pulled back up to his shoulders. Russia hadn't realised they had fallen off.

"I-I just wanted to tell you…your s-snow angel was beautiful."

A small handed rested softly on his head for a few brief moments before it rested on his shoulder, and then the gentle touch disappeared along with small footsteps and the door opening and closing again.

The next morning, Russia and Latvia barely spoke, but when they happened to make eye contact, Latvia's eyes were slightly frightened, yet he still managed a small smile.

A smile that let Russia know that Latvia thought he wasn't the worst nation in the world.


End file.
